


Collateral Damage

by Anya_P3



Category: Freier Fall | Free Fall (2013)
Genre: Angst, Canon Rewrite, F/M, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anya_P3/pseuds/Anya_P3
Summary: Ever wonder what Kay's take might be about the events depicted in Freier Fall / Free Fall?This fic tells the story of Marc's Free Fall from Kay's perspective.I've taken liberties fleshing out Kay's back story since we get none of it in the movie.It will help explain Kay's motivations and actions.
Relationships: Marc Borgmann/Bettina Bischoff, Marc Borgmann/Kay Engel
Comments: 97
Kudos: 24





	1. At the Academy

**Author's Note:**

> Kay's POV

He had taken over the room by the time I got there.  
His stuff unpacked and neatly arranged, and he was lying on the bed he’d claimed.  
I got in late, of course, but I bet he was early. Overly eager.

“Hallo,” I tried to be friendly. His suspicious glare told me I might be barking up the wrong tree. Not overly welcoming.  
Which is a shame cause he wasn’t unpleasant to look at. Very nicely built with deep set eyes, a strong jaw and a perpetual scowl. Intense.  
I’ve always been a sucker for the angsty ones.  
He's not a talker either, I found out quickly. 

I didn’t think training was going to be fun.

The first few days we barely said two words to each other. Once I asked him to turn off the light cause his bed was closer to the switch. And I think he told me to move my towel from the bathroom we shared.  
We didn’t acknowledge each other outside the confined little room either. Not in the beginning.

I think it was on the third day of training when I first noticed him trying to keep up with me on the track. He didn’t stand a chance; his form was awful, his endurance shit, and his breathing a joke. But he tried anyway.  
That caught my interest.

After that I noticed him glancing. I guess I started glancing too, or I wouldn’t have noticed, so yeah, I guess we both started around the same time. I’d be in the mess hall or chatting with someone by the barracks, when I’d turn my gaze and find his eyes fixed on me, not scowling for a change, more curious, as if he was seeing something for the very first time. The second he’d notice me looking back he’d turn away and pretend it never happened. But it did. 

I sometimes wonder if my catching him staring was what made him lose his cool that day. We were doing a crowd control simulation and the wanker kicked me, hard, with intent to inflict pain. I called him on it and it turned into this whole thing. We both ended up getting chewed out by the head instructor. I think his name was Brandt. 

Anyway, that was when everything started to change. 

When Brandt was finally done with me, I walked out and noticed him smoking in the shadows. I’m pretty sure he was waiting around to apologize for being a prick, which he had been, and which he did. He looked awkward and uncomfortable, even contrite, which was quite adorable, really.  
The look on his face when he realized I lit a spliff and not a cigarette was priceless. I just smiled coolly and offered him a drag, silently daring him to break a rule. I got the sense he didn’t do that often.  
Since he was too jumpy to smoke out in the open, I suggested we head to the pool.  
He was so nervous about getting caught that he couldn’t help but sneak backward glances every few steps. I could see why he became a cop. It was sweet.  
I never thought he’d follow when I jumped in. But the verbal baiting worked like a charm…I threw one ”pussy” at him, and he cannon balled right in. 

I took a mental note; he responds to direct dares.

In the pool, he immediately charged toward me, playfully dunking my head under water. I won’t pretend it didn’t give me a thrill. I knew I was attracted to him, but now, this horsing around, his touch, it stirred something in me. I wanted more.

I didn’t return to the room with him. Something told me that if I were to exit the pool sporting the massive boner he’d caused, it would’ve freaked him out. 

He chilled out after that night. We still played the staring game, but now that we’d gotten friendly, he seemed less uptight when our eyes met.  
That Friday, I thought I was being super sly when I offered to give him jogging tips, which god knows he needed. The nice part about it was that it gave me an excuse to spend more time with him. There’s no use denying that by this point, I was crushing pretty hard.  
Jogging side by side felt comfortable, relaxing. He was less reserved, starting to open up, talk to me, even joke around. When his scowl softened, I could see the sparkle in his blue eyes. I hadn’t noticed it before, but now that I did, I couldn’t get enough. I wanted to have those sparkling eyes boring into mine.  
I wanted him.

While I was fairly certain I sensed chemistry on his end too, I wasn’t sure he was aware of it yet. It’s not that I didn’t know he was straight, but lots of straight guys experiment so at that point, I still didn’t know how inexperienced he was. 

The shotgun was my way to test the waters. He was nervous, for sure, but played along. That encouraged me to keep going, push just a little bit further. Which is when I kissed him, if you can even call it a kiss, it was more a peck on the lips.  
“Are you nuts?” he looked appalled.  
Not exactly the response I’d hoped for _scheiße_  
I tried to pass it off as a joke, act like nothing weird happened, but he was clearly freaked out. We jogged back to the barracks in a super uncomfortable silence. He wouldn’t even look at me. 

By the time I stepped out of the shower in our shared room, he’d already fled home for the weekend.

It was a crappy weekend. Thomas dropped by unannounced 5 minutes after I got home. I wanted to deal with him like I wanted a hole in my head. I’d broken it off with him 2 months prior, but he wouldn’t go away. I knew I was partly to blame. There’d been a handful of times when he had come over and I was stoned or lonely or horny enough and ended up sleeping with him. I guess that encouraged him to keep trying. But I was not about to sleep with him tonight. It was not happening. No way.

The best thing about Thomas were his blowjobs. That man knew his way around a cock and balls, I can tell you that much. And the bonus that night was that with his full head of soft dark hair, I could imagine it was Marc sucking me off instead, as I held his head firmly in my hands, setting the pace I wanted. Damn, it was sweet. Only thing sweeter would be the real deal. I wasn’t sure when my attraction blew up inside me and became this gnawing physical ache. I hadn’t expected it.  
I’d run into a dry patch in recent months, hadn’t really been into anyone since the early days with Thomas, but that infatuation had faded away fast. Leaving me kind of bored with everyone and everything.  
I returned the favor with a quick, half assed hand job. Lame but he didn’t seem to mind. Then I waited for him to leave. Sex with an ex is never a good idea.

Sunday was a little bit better. Obligatory brunch with my folks, a satisfyingly naughty heart to heart with my sister, and clubbing with a casual group of friends. That might be a generous description. More like people who go clubbing together but that’s about the extent of their relationship.

Romy’s a few years older and is just about the coolest person I know. She’d recently come home after living in Chicago with an American tourist she fell for last summer. Followed him all the way around the world only to realize the chase had been much more exciting than the happily ever after. So she cut her losses and came back. That about sums my sister up. She does what she wants, when she wants, takes shit from no one, and never apologizes for her choices.  
I guess you could say she molded me in her form. Or maybe it’s genetic. Who knows?

That Sunday I told Romy about Marc.  
“A straight guy, Kay? Why would you put yourself through that?”  
I shrugged. “I want him. I don’t even understand it myself. And straight or not, he’s attracted to me too. I can feel it in my bones whenever we’re together.”  
“You can feel it in your boner, more like!” she teased.

I walked straight into that one. 

We’re sharing a joint in her artist’s loft, lying lazily on her futon. She takes a long drag and says in a serious tone, “You know I’d never stop you from following your heart…or in this case, your little head. But please promise me you’ll be careful and watch over that sweet heart of yours, baby brother.”  
Yep, that’s Romy; loving, supportive and crass all at the same time. You gotta love her.

Thank god I checked my phone before taking anything at the club. As soon as we walked in, I got a text from my squad leader telling me I had to cover for Jonas from my unit on Monday morning and put off returning to the academy to Tuesday. Normally I wouldn’t have minded, but this time, I felt a small pang of disappointment, knowing I’d have to wait another day to see him.

Tuesday started with another lecture in Brandt’s office where he explained the concept of priorities to me. That man could drone on…but he did let an interesting little tidbit slip as he finished his diatribe.  
“Off then. Your roommate was worried you weren’t coming back.” 

That was unexpected. 

As was walking out and finding Marc smoking in the same spot he’d waited last time I was in Brandt’s office.  
_waiting for me again? Ok then, showtime!_  
“Makes you impotent,” I snuck up on him from behind, “don’t you ever read the package inserts?”  
I patted his chest pocket where I knew he kept the pack and fished one out.  
I was starting to understand his MO by then. Freak out by my physical closeness, then come right back like a boomerang. Mr. straight lace was into me. That much I could tell.  
His eager expression emboldened me to push even further.  
I held the cigarette to my lips and grabbed his hand nonchalantly, brought it close to my mouth to light mine with his. I took my sweet time, allowing the touch to linger. Giving him a taste.  
I was in full flirt mode, teasing him, getting closer, having a bit of fun with him.

“Brandt made a huge fuss again.” I paused for effect, then added sardonically, “I think he really missed me.”  
Marc smiled at that, and I remember wondering if he even realized I hadn’t actually been talking about Brandt. Throughout this entire exchange, he didn’t say a word. But his body language and facial expressions spoke volumes. I could tell he was lapping it all up.  
Which meant it was time to walk away. 

The line had been cast. Now I had to give him a chance to take the bait.

He didn’t take the bait. 

He’d intentionally steered clear of me for the rest of the day. I’d hoped we’d get a chance to connect again that night in the room we were sharing. But by the time I got back he’d either fallen asleep or pretended to.  
I was starting to second guess myself.  
_Could I have misread the signs? Am I creeping him out?_  
I didn’t have to wonder too long. When I opened my eyes the following morning, he was standing by the little table between our bunks, staring at me. I was surprised that he didn’t budge when he realized I was awake and watching him.  
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you staring at people when they sleep is creepy?”  
That snapped him out of his daze. He shook his head silently and walked out of the room.

So yeah, game on.

Waiting for him to make a move had been a bad idea. There were just 2 days of training left, and he was either too much of a pussy to do anything about it, or was in such deep denial, he hadn’t even allowed himself to admit how he felt.  
I didn’t want us to miss our chance. The thought of never tasting the warmth of his mouth, never touching his hard, chiseled body, never feeling his firm touch was driving me crazy. I was running out of time.

That afternoon I tracked him down in the gym, bench pressing weights. Not his most flattering angle, but he was much better at this than at running.  
“Another jog in the forest?” I suggested, making sure to keep my voice even.  
He averted his eyes.  
“I’ve had enough for today.” That scowl again.  
He was scared shitless. It was all over his face. Scared of what might happen in the forest this time. Scared of how much he wanted to find out.  
I’m not proud of this, but I even tried insulting him to get a reaction. Goading him had worked last time.  
“I nearly forgot what a great runner you are.”  
I got nothing. He was showing frustratingly strong self-control. I stood there while he ignored me for another moment and then walked out. 

I headed back to the room thinking he’d have to show up sooner or later. I remember I was just about to head for the shower when I heard someone outside yelling “Hey Marc, where are you running off to?”  
I looked out the window and saw him run toward the forest.  
The first thought I had was:  
_What the fuck? What’s he playing at? Why is he running into the forest when 20 minutes ago he had turned me down?_

Then it clicked.  
He was going after me. He thought I was in the forest. 

He was finally taking the bait.

Catching up to him was a cinch. He turned back when he heard my footsteps and looked a little spooked to see me. I wanted to put him at ease. I also didn’t want to feel like some predator chasing him down. I mean, he’d come into the forest looking for me, hadn’t he?  
I tapped his head playfully and reminded him to breathe evenly. When he still wouldn’t look at me I did it again, “Evenly!” I said, still grinning at him.

That’s when he shoved me and yelled “stop it!”

But he just stood there facing me, like he was waiting to see what I’d do next.  
The air between us was charged. He could feel it too, I’m sure. He was lashing out at me because I had gotten too close. He was uncomfortable, but at the same time, we both knew he wanted me to get even closer.

I moved gingerly towards him, reaching my arms to touch him.  
He gave me a quick shove,“stop it!”  
I tried again and got another shove.  
But he wasn’t trying to get away. If he’d wanted me to back off, he could have easily punched me, kicked me, gotten his point across. He didn’t do any of those things. He still stood right in front of me, breathing hard, eyes glued on me.  
It was confusing and arousing at the same time. 

He was mad at himself, not at me. Because he wanted me to keep going. I don’t know how I knew this, but it was plain as day to me in that moment. So I pressed on.  
I was moving slowly, trying to get him to relax, to stop fighting me. His expression was full of dread, but the dread was softened by shadows of expectation.  
He wanted and dreaded this in equal measure.

I took a step towards him and placed my hands on both sides of his head, steadying him, first outside his hood, then on his cheeks, forcing him to look at me. He shook his head slightly, but his gaze was smoldering, he was panting and at that moment I knew for certain I hadn’t been wrong.  
My first attempt was a little clunky and awkward as I placed light kisses around his mouth. But it got him to stop resisting. He grabbed my sweatshirt with both his hands and held on for dear life. That’s when I knew he was ready to submit, and I went in for a real kiss. The first one was cautious. I was easing him in, waiting for permission to continue. And he gave it to me. He was finally kissing me back. No longer pretending he hadn’t wanted this just as much as I did. I’d pulled down his hood to get better access, and now we were kissing heavily, our hands roaming all over one another, flush with passion and lust. 

Then he let out a gorgeous guttural moan that sent tingles down my groin.  
I had to hear that sound again, so I slid my hand down his shorts and grabbed his throbbing cock. I tugged it quickly, sensing that he was already at the peak of arousal and aching for release. He came fast and hard in my hand and rewarded me with a few more of those throaty moans that made my cock leak.  
Then he slumped over my shoulder, spent. I held him, kissing his face softly, savoring his salty taste. 

That’s when it all came to a head. 

Once he caught his breath, the transition was instant. I felt his body tense up against me. It was as if he’d woken up from a trance and remembered who he was. Apparently, he was not a man who had sexual encounters with other men in a forest clearing. He stepped away from me, dropping my hand, looking into my face with a mix of anger and fierce determination. I needed to say or do something, anything, to bring him back, to wipe the indignation off his face. I lifted my hand softly toward him, but he pushed it away.  
Then turned his back to me and ran.

I won’t lie, it was quite a let down. I hadn’t gone after him for a quick grope and kiss. I wanted more, especially now that I’d gotten a taste. He was hard in all the right places, his kisses were forceful, manly, and passionate. And those husky moans…just remembering them made my cock twitch.  
But I wasn’t blind either. I saw Marc for what he was. A confused straight alpha male discovering latent homosexual desires for the first time. And they frightened the hell out of him.

It was at that moment, standing alone in the forest clearing, feeling a little dejected and still aroused, that I made the decision to find a way to see him again.


	2. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kay transfers to Ludwigsburg, and Marc reacts...
> 
> Kay makes some decisions, followed by some pure smut.
> 
> Enjoy!

New message from Romy:

**“Are you up for a trip to Amsterdam next weekend? 2 days of chill and relaxation.”**

Reply:

**“Sounds good, but need to find another date? I’m moving next weekend.”**

New message from Romy:

**“Moving? What are you talking about?”**

Reply:

**“I’m in Ludwigsburg. Just signed a lease for a place here.”**

My phone began ringing immediately. I chuckled.

“Hi Romy”

“What the hell, Kay? Who moves from Stuttgart to lame-ass Ludwigsburg?”

“I guess I do?”

“Shit, is this about that straight guy you have the hots for?”

No use in pretending with her.

“Yeah, though I’m not sure how straight he is. I’ve arranged a transfer to his unit.”

I can imagine her shaking her head while she says,

“You’re crazy, you know that? I hope he’s worth it.”

So do I, I thought to myself.

I requested the transfer on a whim. But even later when I thought about it, there wasn’t anything holding me back. Ludwigsburg was a half hour away so I’d be close enough to see my family or friends, and going after him felt exciting. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since I got back from training.  
After living with the dull feeling of nothing to look forward to for the past few months, I just couldn’t resist taking my chances on this. You only live once.  
I figured he wouldn’t be thrilled to see me, considering how he’d run away in the woods. But I knew in my bones that once we were around each other again, it’d force him to get past whatever’s holding him back. I was convinced a little push in the right direction was all he needed, then we’d be able to find out what this thing we’d started could become.

What kept me going was the memory of his kisses. Once he’d stopped fighting me in the woods, he had kissed me with such abandon, such desperation, I could still feel the ghost of his soft lips against mine at night… and those moans. They didn’t lie.

He set clear ground rules on my first day on the Ludwigsburg anti-riot police unit. He was pretending he barely knew me. Not the welcome I would’ve liked, but since I did surprise him on his own turf, I decided to play along. Let him feel like he has some control over the situation.  
He looked just as sexy and angry as I remembered during those first few days at the academy. All huff and scowls in my direction. So when he came at me in the locker room, it was so laughably predictable, I couldn’t help but feel a sliver of amusement watching him lose it, even if it was my head he was slamming into the locker. Still the same Marc. 

Over the next few days, it became clear he was closing himself off to me. Whenever we were in the same room, all I felt from his direction was tension and aggression. Even when I’d make eye contact during a lecture or debrief, he’d look back at me with anger. It was discouraging, but we’d been through this act before…I just wondered how much longer he would keep up the pretense, masking his desire with rage.  
Most of the other guys on the unit followed his lead. Since he was the one who knew me from the academy, and was clearly not happy I was there, the rest of them didn’t go out of their way to be friendly either. I wasn’t used to that. Not to brag, but anywhere I’d gone before, I’d always commanded a certain level of interest from those around me.

Here that interest came from a single source – one of the few women in the unit, Britt was the prettiest one, and she was definitely interested. Since I had nothing better to do, no one else to hang with, I went along with it. Having a beer with Britt at the canteen was more appealing than going home alone after my shift.  
And that’s how I found myself at the bowling alley with Britt that first Friday night in Ludwigsburg. Not my first choice of recreational activities, but judging by how popular the place was, I guessed it was big with the locals. 

Seeing Marc with his about-to-burst-pregnant girlfriend was a rude awakening, for sure. Not once in the 10 days we’d shared cramped quarters at the academy had that idiot mentioned a girlfriend, let alone a pregnant one. When I found his eyes, instead of an apology, I found him looking defiant, self-righteous even. Asshole.  
That evening, bowling and drinking in the idyllic small town setting gave me a new appreciation of the term surreal. Just me, the guy I’d followed out her hoping to seduce, and the mother of his future kid. 

Romy was going to have a field day when I told her about this.

Finding a moment alone with Marc wasn’t easy with Britt hanging on my every word, and Marc nestled in the safe, warm hold of his girlfriend. Finally, I followed him to the men’s room, and gave him a chance to say something. Explain. Shout. Apologize. Anything.  
He looked right at me, held my gaze and muttered smugly, “So. Now you know.”

Ok, so I’d been wrong. Ludwigsburg and Marc weren’t about to fulfill on the promise I’d been hoping they would. With a girlfriend, baby on the way, and so deep in the closet he probably couldn’t find his way out even if he wanted to, I was ready to give up on Marc.  
I decided I was done with the pursuit. No harm no foul.  
I’d wait out the next 6 months and ask for another transfer. 

On Saturday I had to get out of there. I fled the suffocating confines of Ludwigsburg to Romy’s.

“You really have to stay there the full 6 months? Can’t you just tell them you hate the place and want to go back to your old unit?” in my sister’s world, rules and policies meant nothing.

“Who says my old unit wants me back? I just up and left them with barely any notice.” 

We were sitting at an outdoor table at Paulaner am Kirchplatz in leinfelden-echterdingen, drinking beers, waiting for a few of her friends to join. 

She hugged my shoulder and brought out the big guns, my childhood nickname she’d given me, “I’m sorry it turned out this way Kay-Kay. I know you were really into that guy.”

Then, her brow furrowed quizzically, “I just don’t get why he never mentioned her.” 

She hit on the million dollar question I couldn’t stop asking myself. “Maybe he thought it was none of my business. To be fair, he didn’t know I’d chase him down to Ludwigsburg.” I sighed and she gave me a consoling look and squeezed my arm. 

“We’ll just have to make sure the next 6 months go by fast. How about Amsterdam next weekend?” her soft blond curls bopped up and down and she raised her eyebrows, trying to entice me. 

I gave her a sad smile, “I have to work. I’ll let you know when I have a free weekend.”

By the following week, I’d stopped trying to catch his eye, sneak glances, or find opportunities to be around him. Still, Marc’s demeanor towards me hadn’t changed at all. His physical discomfort in my presence was so obvious, I had started wondering how the others failed to notice it. Or were they used to these types of temper tantrums from him? How little I knew about this man who was the reason I was there.

That week, he went after me at Jiu Jitsu practice. I had an immediate déjà vu to the academy simulation, when he’d pretty much pulled the exact same shit. He really was predictable. I shrugged it off. He was blowing off steam, probably scared, worried I’d blab about us, or god knows what. Fuck if I know what he was thinking. So I decided to just tell him I’d back off, get him to chill so that the next 6 months until my next transfer won’t be so confrontational. 

Later, when we were alone in the locker room, I acknowledged that it had been a dumb idea to come there. He readily agreed as I expected him to, but when he looked at me, I saw that gaze again. The same one I’d seen in his eyes when we were running in the woods. Equal measures dread and anticipation. I hadn’t seen him look at me that way since my first day there, when he’d slammed me against the locker. 

That gaze got to me…it always did. Because of his gaze, instead of telling him I’d back off, I found myself putting out one more piece of bait in front of him, a final attempt to draw him in…promising myself this would be the end of it. If he doesn’t take it, I’d be done here.  
“If you do want to go jogging sometime…”

It took him three days to call.  
By then I’d pretty much resigned myself to the original plan. Suck it up for 6 months and bail.  
When I picked up, he sounded hesitant, all certainty and smugness gone from his voice. 

“Hi, Kay? It’s Marc.”

“I know.”

“I thought maybe, if you want, we could um, go jogging together?” he stammered but managed to get it out.

I smiled. “I have a route not far from my place in the woods. It’s nice. Secluded.”

“I can meet you there in 20 minutes,” he said so quickly it was almost comical.

“Now?” had he not been outdoors today? “it’s pouring.”

“Never mind.” I could tell he thought it was a rejection.

“I’ll be there. 20 minutes.” 

I’d been waiting at the spot where we’d agreed to meet for a good 10 minutes before his VW Golf appeared. I had just started wondering if he might have changed his mind, but no, he made it. I remember sitting in my car for another minute, just to see what he’d do. When I noticed he wasn’t getting out of the car, I decided to meet him halfway. 

This had to be his decision, I knew that, so I wasn’t about to initiate any physical contact or even a conversation between us. But I figured that being the first to step out of the car was a simple gesture I could offer to ease him along. I walked out into the downpour with nothing but my hood shielding me and rested my back against my jeep. 

Your move, Marc.

Within a few seconds he also came out of his car wearing shorts and a navy blue hoodie. He approached me with a determined gait, walked right up till he was facing me. I could see some hesitance in his expression, unsure about what the next move should be, maybe even hoping I’d do it for him. But no, I wasn’t about to make this as easy for him as the first time. If he wanted it, he had to be the one coming for it, he had to acknowledge that he wanted this too, at least to himself. And to me.

I jutted my chin out at him, wordlessly challenging him, in a gesture that meant “now what, pussy?”  
That was all it took.  
He closed the distance between us, cupped the side of my face and started kissing me, hard. He claimed my mouth, his tongue moving swiftly, almost savagely, as he panted from the thrill of it.  
I could hear a little victory song playing in my mind. After the past 2 weeks of pretending he wanted nothing to do with me, I finally have him where I want him. And I got him to come to me, this time. 

We pulled apart and I gave him an amused grin. An “I knew it all along” grin. He attacked my mouth again, but this time he flipped me around and slammed me against the car, then pulled my hood off and leaned his entire body against my back, my ass, my thighs. I could feel his hard cock through the thin fabric of his shorts. It was exhilarating. And unexpected. Mr. Straightlace making such a bold move? He was grinding against me from behind but I sensed his uncertainty as to where to go from there. I figured by now he’d proven to both of us that he wanted this, so I decided it would serve us both if I were to give him a helping hand, teach him what to do. I twisted a bit to tug at his shorts, indicating for him to pull them off, as I pulled mine off, and guided him in. 

Goddamn, it burned when he pushed into me like that. Both of us leaning against the car, him barely knowing what to do, slamming into me as hard as he could, no lube, no prep. But I knew it’d be worth every ounce of pain because a moment later, I bucked back against him to steady his rhythm and we found our groove. It didn’t take long for him to shoot deep inside me, which was the first time I realized we forgot to use a fucking condom. Shit. At least I knew where his dick had been for the past 5 years, and it wasn’t up random men’s asses at clubs.

It wasn’t until he slipped out that it suddenly dawned on us that we were standing outside in the pouring rain when we had a perfectly warm and dry jeep to climb into. I grabbed his hand before he’d have a chance to overthink or to wake up from any trance he might be in, like last time. I needed more from him this time. I wasn’t ready for this to be it.  
Luckily, he followed me into the car willingly, licking and nipping at my neck, as I removed what was left of his clothes, and he did the same to mine. We kept kissing frantically, never disentangling even for a moment, until we were settled on the passenger’s seat, me on my back and him naked on top of me.

I remember thinking this was it. The reason I followed him to Ludwigsburg.  
His body felt so good against mine, so warm, so weighty, so right. 

By now I was in such dire need for release, I grabbed both our cocks and stroked them together, as we both spasmed to the delicious friction of skin against skin, cock against cock. Marc threw his head back in pleasure and one of those intoxicating husky moans escaped his lips, which was all I needed to come all over his taut stomach. I was still shaking from the wave I’d ridden but kept stroking him at the same frantic speed. I crushed my mouth onto his for an intense kiss, tasting every corner of his tongue and mouth, as he came in my hand.

We collapsed against each other, both spent and satisfied. We held each other in silence, and I still remember thinking how different he was this time, how willing, like an eager student. We must have lay in each other’s arms for about 10 minutes, breathing each other in, basking in the afterglow of our first time. And then I felt him begin to twitch until he was wriggling uncomfortably against me. A moment later he sat up and leaned forward to allow me to shift over to the driver’s side.  
Wordlessly, we cleaned ourselves up quickly and pulled our boxer briefs back on, then continued sitting there in complete silence as I lit my after-sex joint.

He looked uncomfortable, sitting beside me, still shirtless. I could tell he was processing what we’d just done. What he’d just done with me.  
“Everything ok?” I didn’t want to lose him to these doubts and fears again.  
He gave me a quick confused glance and nodded, unconvincingly.  
I offered him a drag, trying to lull him back into our little bubble of intimacy, but it was no use. It had already popped. 

He grabbed his t-shirt, put his sneakers on, and was ready to go. He gave me a look that I wasn’t sure how to interpret: content? Pleased? Sheepish? I still needed to learn Marc’s many different expressions.  
He swung the car door open and stepped outside without as much as a word to me.

Shit, what’s wrong with this guy? He doesn’t seem to have basic human communication skills.

The one thought looping through my mind was:

_Don’t let him leave like this, don’t let him pretend this was meaningless!_

“It was really nice,” I said, hoping to sound sincere, as he stepped outside my jeep. 

That stopped him, he swung back around to look at me, and gave me a small conspiratorial grin before walking back to his car.


	3. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kay shares his memories on how he and Marc fell in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long to post this chapter - it was a huge challenge!  
> I'm still not happy with it, but figured I'd go with what I have so that I can move onto the rest of the story!

After that first time, Marc couldn’t get enough. He was hooked, like an addict. I like to think I was his drug, but in all honesty, more likely it was the mind-blowing sex we were having. Everything about man on man sex was new to him and he had an insatiable hunger to explore, experiment, taste everything and anything he’d denied himself his entire life. And I was only too happy to comply.

While sex was a major draw for him, I knew there was more to it. 

From the sidelines it was easy to see Marc was experiencing, possibly for the first time in his life, a sense of complete liberation. He was going after what he wanted, what felt good, giving into desires he’d spent years hiding, ignoring, not even allowing himself to recognize and put a name to. And now, here everything was, out in the open, spread out before him like a pleasure buffet for his taking.  
And take he did. Again and again. 

It intoxicated him. And in return, he intoxicated me, as I rode the pleasure tidal wave alongside him. 

We were seeing each other as much as our work schedules and his home routine would allow, which was more often than I’d expected. In those days we’d switch shifts around to ensure we’d be off at the same time, he’d fake night shifts, double shifts, anything he could come up with to buy us more time together.  
It felt like a new world had spilled open just for the two of us. As if everything in it existed solely for our pleasure and indulgence. We spent no time thinking about anything beyond the here and now, focused only on one another, and basked in the thrill of falling in love. 

It was a rush I hadn’t experienced since my first love at 16. Maybe because this was Marc’s first time falling for a man, I can’t say for sure. But there was a sweet, tender yet all-consuming force pushing us towards one another, blinding us from anything outside our little bubble, shielding us from the problems and challenges that laid just beyond it. 

And really, what we had was almost everything I’d hoped for. Save for the fact that Marc still ignored me at work and ran back to his cookie cutter life as soon as our time together was up. 

Back then I was content to accept those terms and wasn’t pushing him on either front. Yet. 

I thought of Marc’s seduction as a marathon, not a sprint. After all, I’d gone after a closeted man knowing he had a baby on the way. My expectations had to be realistic given the problematic circumstances. So for the meantime, I focused on making the time we spent together as wondrous as it could be, giving him the time and space I figured he needed in order to be able to choose us over his other life. 

I will say, those were some of the best weeks of my life.  
And Marc’s too, I’m sure of it.

The scowl disappeared from his face. Smoothed over to welcome the devilish sparkle in his eye and a boyish playfulness I could never get enough of. What I remember most clearly about those weeks was how much fun we had in AND out of the bedroom. No matter what we did together; jogging, cooking a quick meal, lounging around my place between multiple rounds of steamy sex, or smoking on the balcony and chatting, we savored one another’s presence, reveled in the easy, laid back intimacy that had bloomed between us when neither of us had quite noticed. 

Over the years, I’d spent a fair amount of time thinking about those days, wondering what it was about Marc that had made me stay in Ludwigsburg and keep pursuing him for as long as I did. The only answer I’ve come up with is that damn intimacy. It had anchored me to him long after the good times wound down and things between us went from bad to worse.  
I’d craved that intimacy when I followed Marc from the academy. Somehow, the initial contact we’d made there had led me to believe I’d find it with him. And once I did, it was almost impossible to walk away from. It made me put up with things I’d never imagine I would.

In my mind, I’d named that particular day ‘Golden Day’ and it is, by far, one of my favorite memories. It was a day as close to perfect as could be. We’d done a night shift together and Marc had called home and made up a story about having been asked to stay for a double shift to fill in for someone who was out for training.  
He followed me in his car straight to my place and we collapsed on the bed. The long hours at work had tired us out, but the anticipation that came from knowing we had a full day together ahead of us made us giddy. We fooled around a bit, playfully; light, tender touches, long, deep, satisfying kisses, but we weren’t rushing towards a destination. We luxuriated in the opportunity to lie close, limbs tangled together, unhurried.  
We talked too. Back then talking was still a novelty for us. We were gradually learning how to do more of it, and the conversations were slowly getting more personal and meaningful. 

“Tell me the craziest dream you ever had growing up.” I asked, propped up on my elbow lying beside him, gently stroking the nape of his neck, just under his jaw.  
He was so relaxed, almost catlike beside me, his arm resting lazily against my chest. 

“When I was 14, I wanted to move to Berlin and become a professional musician.” He chuckled, then added, “typical teenage fantasy, eh?”  
I laughed because he was right. He was on the predictable side. Even his dreams. 

“What kind of musician?”

“Drums. I used to play.”

“Not anymore? Why’d you stop?” 

I was imagining him playing a drum solo with a band in a dark club, scowling in concentration, sweaty and shirtless. Hot. The image made me groan.  
Before he could answer my questions, I rubbed my stubbly cheek against his clean shaven one and murmured, my voice just above a whisper, “that’d be sexy to see. You still have your drum kit?”

Marc’s hand flew to the back of my neck and he drew me in for a slow and thorough kiss. I can still remember the sweet tingle if I focus hard enough.

“I don’t play anymore, but I can still keep a good tempo going, as you may have noticed.”  
That made me chuckle. I loved the lighthearted banter that had crept into our interactions, as the last remnants of Marc’s reservations gradually melted away.  
We fell asleep wrapped around each other.  
Tired, close, contented. 

When we woke up a few hours later, we hit the trail. Our moods still light, we couldn’t hold back our playfulness even as we jogged. I had never seen Marc so carefree, flirty and open before. I knew without a doubt that I wanted a lifetime of this.

After the jog, we returned to my place and hit the shower together. Another first.  
No one would ever have described the shower in my Ludwigsburg apartment as lavish. In fact, it was a little cramped to fit two people, but that didn’t stop us from lathering one another up with soap in between fervent kisses under the cascading stream of scathing water. By the time I shut off the water, we were both hard and wanting. We toweled off haphazardly and moved as one towards the bed, finally ready to bring our hours of ongoing foreplay to its much anticipated climax. 

Both of us still wet, hair dripping, we wrestled on the bed, as if fighting for domination. I writhed against Marc’s firm muscles and taut stomach, kissing and licking his neck, as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He wriggled on top of me, leaning his head back and moaning at my ministrations, as I felt his rock hard cock grind against my own, setting me on fire.  
Almost too quickly, we were too far gone to wait any longer. He flipped us both onto our sides, grabbed the lube off the nightstand, and coated himself generously, before slowly entering me from behind. Still his favorite position. All that sexual stimulation and adrenaline took its toll. We didn’t last long. Just a few minutes of thrusting and he came, holding me tight, kissing my neck as he grunted my name from deep in his throat. 

My name. He’d never done that before. Never allowed himself to let go so fully. I knew it was the right time.  
That week, feeling high on Marc, on life, on sex, on lust…and possibly on the pot I used to smoke quite a bit of back then, I had made the decision to go all in; to give him a glimpse of what life with me could really be like. Nudge him just a little bit in the right direction.

I had a copy of the key to my apartment made for him, and I knew this would be the right time to give it to him. It was a promise of sorts: unlimited access to me. Unlimited access to freedom from his obligations and responsibilities. And unlimited access to imagine the future we could have together.

It was nearing dusk when we made it to the balcony, that enigmatic time of day when the sun held onto its final moments of commanding the day, painting the sky in a soft, deceptive shade of gold. Marc himself looked golden to me in that light, I was dazzled by his beauty.

“Ever thought of just leaving it all behind? Taking off and starting over?” I hadn’t planned to ask this. It was the final stage of my seduction marathon. We weren’t there yet. Marc wasn’t there yet…

“No, not really.” As much as I expected it, I still couldn’t hide the disappointment at hearing his reply and seeing how genuine it was. He truly hadn’t considered this, maybe not since he was 14 and dreamed of playing drums in Berlin.

Back to my original plan.  
I opened my fisted hand to reveal the key.  
His eyebrow shot up in surprise, clearly he hadn’t seen this coming. But his eyes belied a warm smile. The gesture hadn’t spooked him. 

“In case you ever need some space,” I explained. 

We looked into each other’s eyes, both finding soft, inviting smiles, and he reached to take it. I couldn’t help myself, the day’s playfulness still coursing in my system, I snapped my fist shut just as he was about to reach it. 

Or maybe it was more than being playful.  
Maybe I wanted to remind him this was my choice. My doing. My gift I had chosen to give him.  
Marc took the key. 

One of Marc’s favorite out-of-bed discoveries was clubbing.  
We didn’t go out much, definitely not in Ludwigsburg, for fear of being seen together. So when I took him to Kings Club, a gay club in Stuttgart, promising a night of debauchery and unadulterated fun, it was a thrill for both of us.  
He wanted to drink and I had other plans, both of which didn’t include either one of us driving that night. So we took the train to Stuttgart. It was our first time traveling anywhere together, let alone in public. I could tell he was a little uncomfortable, despite the two beers we’d had at my place before we left.

When we got to King’s I wanted to help us both loosen up, so we headed straight to the bar and had a couple of shots, each. I’d always loved losing myself to the techno beat, clearing my mind of any thoughts and giving into the breathtaking energy of the place. I was relieved to see Marc, typically reserved and tense, join me in the state of impulsive oblivion. We were dancing joyfully, with such abandon, not thinking about a damn thing beyond the two of us, our bodies swaying together, our arms raised excitedly, smiling, drinking, touching, content to be together. 

And then I spotted him. Thomas. Walking straight toward us with a dejected look on his face.  
He reached me quicker than I liked, placed a hand on my shoulder “Kay? Where’ve you been hiding? I haven’t been able to find you anywhere.”

_sheiße_

“Hi Thomas, how are you?” I tried to seem friendly, not wanting Marc to guess the type of relationship we’d had. 

“Actually, I moved about 6 weeks ago. I’m not in Stuttgart anymore.” 

Now Thomas had noticed Marc and was eyeing him unabashedly. Clearly sizing him up. 

“I see,” he drawled, “moved on, have you?”

He wasn’t talking about my geographic location.

“Looks that way,” I tried for a friendly smile, but judging from Thomas’ expression, it might have been dryer than I’d hoped. 

I put my arm on the small of Marc’s back and directed him to the bar, each of us perching on a bar stool.

“What was that?” Marc asked, “an ex?”

I winced, “something like that. He’s been an ex for a long time.”

Marc’s gaze was unreadable for a few seconds, then I recognized discomfort.

“He wasn’t happy to see you with me.”

I held his gaze, “I don’t really give a fuck. I’m happy to be here with you.”

He leaned closer to me and gave me a quick, open-mouthed kiss on the lips. 

“I’m happy to be here with you too,” he smiled.

_Note to self: 2 beers, 2 shots, and an hour of dancing make Marc much more affectionate in public than usual._

A half hour later, I dragged him away from the dancefloor and led him into a bathroom stall at the back of the club. It was dark, seedy and cold, but I was fully intent on giving him the full clubbing experience. When I took the ecstasy out of my pocket he was taken by surprise. But in typical Marc form, he followed my lead, taking the pill as soon as he saw me take it.  
By then it was hard to keep our hands off each other. We took turns going down on each other in the stall. Sex in the bathroom of a gay club on ecstasy. Another first to check off his list. 

The next few weeks flew by in a haze of sex rendezvous with intermittent shifts at work. He was coming over 3-4 times per week, often using his key to slip into my bed after a night shift or wait for me to return from a later shift myself.  
That means I had 3-4 Marc-less days per week that needed filling. The closer we had gotten, the harder those days had become as I realized his absence now came with a physical ache, a need gnawing inside me. A hunger that could be sated only by spending a few hours with Marc. 

Some of those days were filled with visits from Romy. She knew I was in love, knew I was probably in over my head, and knew I needed a diversion whenever Marc was back in his other life. 

“How long are you going to live this way, Kay-Kay? Seeing him a few times a week, when he’s not home with the girlfriend?” she asked one Friday night as we were sprawled on my bed, sharing a joint.

I took a drag and thought a moment before I replied.

“I don’t have a set timeframe. Until it doesn’t feel right, I guess. For now, it feels like things are moving in the right direction, so I’m ok being a little patient.”

Her blue eyes looked more worried than I’d liked as she said, “I hope you’re right. But so you know…if he breaks your heart, I may have to break his face.” 

She’d barely finished the sentence when we heard a knock on the door. I knew instantly it was Marc. His firm, steady knock was familiar to me by now.  
I hadn’t expected him to stop by. Friday nights were usually saved for date night with the girlfriend. 

I whispered, “that’s him. Don’t talk about breaking his face please.”

As soon as I opened the door, he pushed me forcefully against the wall and attacked my mouth, kissing me passionately as he began fumbling with my belt and breathing “god, I want you”. 

“Hey, hey, slow down!” I pushed him back lightly with one hand while caressing his cheek with the other. He stepped back and opened his eyes, taking in the room for  
the first time. His cheeks turned bright red when he noticed Romy sitting on my bed, puffing on the joint, a knowing smile on her face. 

“My sister Romy – Marc” I introduced them swiftly.

“Holy crap, that’s embarrassing,” Marc quipped, eyes darting around the room, clearly uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry about it,” Romy said with a chuckle in her voice, “you’d be surprised how often it happens.” I gave her a dirty look.

“I didn’t think you’d come by tonight,” I said, gazing intently.

Marc was still standing awkwardly by the door as he explained, “her girlfriends took her out tonight, kind of a last hurrah before the baby…it was a surprise.”

Romy couldn’t resist, “so you thought you’d swing by here for your own last hurrah before the baby? How thoughtful.”

Marc’s blush deepened. 

“Come on, Romy, enough.” I asked. 

“I’m going to go,” Marc began, but I placed my hand on his chest to stop him.

“Don’t. Stay please. Hang out a bit.” 

I could tell he was conflicted about what to do, but Romy extended her hand holding the joint to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it, inhaled deeply, and sat down beside her.

It was a surreal night. We smoked a lot, finished off 2 bottles of wine, and talked about existential shit that had nothing to do with our lives. I think all of us were trying to avoid bringing up sensitive topics or making any direct inferences to our current predicament. Which led to interesting philosophic debates that may or may not have been masking euphemisms with deeper meaning. To be honest, I was too stoned and buzzed to tell.

At one point I’d left to use the bathroom, and just when I was about to rejoin them in the living room, I stopped to eavesdrop as I heard my sister ask, 

“Do you know what you want, Marc?” 

Either he didn’t respond or he responded non-verbally, cause I heard her continue.

“You need to figure that out quickly. The longer you keep this up, the more you’ll hurt both of them. And I don’t honestly care about your girlfriend, but I sure as hell care about Kay.”

I still wonder if I walked back into the room at that precise moment because I wanted to save him from her interrogation, or because I was afraid to hear his response.

What was becoming clear was that our little bubble of intimacy, which we’d tried to shield from the impact of the outside world, was about to be invaded as the arrival of Marc’s baby drew near.


	4. Slipping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I made you wait so long for this chapter - the holidays got in the way! Happy New Year!
> 
> After the "honeymoon" stage of their affair, things begin to slip in the wrong direction.  
> Baby's due any day and Marc is pulling back. It's a bittersweet chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

_New message from Marc_

**Can’t tonight…maybe Thursday**

I tossed my phone onto the bed in frustration. It was the second time he cancelled this week. Marc had been blowing me off more and more, and not in the good sense of the term. The closer it got to the baby’s arrival, the more I felt him slipping through my fingers.   
The first few times he had the decency to add a ‘sorry’ to his texts. Now they were just laconic, curt, and heartless. It felt like he was losing interest. I was no longer the shiny new toy to play with. Now he had more pressing concerns like going to doctor’s appointments with *her* or shopping for baby crap.

Shit, I was starting to sound like a bitter, resentful asshole. 

I needed to blow off steam in a bad way, and since sex wasn’t on the menu, I did the next best thing. I changed into a my workout clothes and spent the next hour making my red punching bag pay for Marc’s offenses.

I was surprised to see Marc at the station when I arrived for my shift the following morning. We hadn’t arranged to work together in nearly two weeks because he claimed he was too busy with errands and having to finish the nursery. 

But that surprise was nothing compared to my shock when Marc yanked me by the collar of my t-shirt and led me into a bathroom stall in the men’s locker room, which appeared to be empty as far as I could tell. I was about to ask if he was insane, but before I got a chance, he placed his hands on both sides of my head and leaned in for a fervent, desperate kiss. Though I was still irritated with him, my pent-up desire revved up within me and I kissed back just as hungrily, nipping his lower lip without even realizing what I was doing. When I tried to step back, he tightened his hold and trailed his tongue against my jaw, moving his mouth to my ear, 

“Jogging trail. One hour after the shift ends” he whisper-growled, then walked out leaving me aroused, relieved, and still a bit irritated.

I can’t even imagine his explosive reaction if I ever pulled a stunt like that.   
Fucking king of double standards.   
Not to mention, world-class cock tease.

I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face for the rest of the shift.

**Jogging Trail, that afternoon**

When I pulled up into the parking lot Marc’s Golf was already there. We stepped out of our cars and walked wordlessly toward the trail, exchanging a somewhat somber look before we began jogging side by side. 

This run, like the last few, felt different. Gone was the light playfulness of the earlier days when jogging served as foreplay to our steamy sex sessions. Now we hardly even acknowledged one another. We ran in silence, each one preoccupied with his own thoughts.  
I remember what was going through my mind when I ran beside him, because pathetically, it was pretty much what ran through my mind whenever Marc spent time with me in those days; he’s here. That’s what matters. He made the time. It’s obviously important to him or he wouldn’t have acted so recklessly at the station.

As always, after our jog, we each got into our own car and drove back to my place. We rode up the 6 flights together in the old elevator with its clanking little noises amplified by our silence. We were finally making eye contact, and though we weren’t touching yet, the imminent contact was so close I could almost sense the electricity in my fingertips. And going by the hunger I saw in his eyes, I bet he could too. My heart pounded in anticipation and I briefly wondered when he’d managed to turn me into a sex-starved teenager. 

I unlocked the door and Marc followed me in, dropped his bag in the middle of the room and turned to face me again, locking his eyes onto mine. 

“How long can you stay?” I asked in a neutral tone. 

In addition to the decrease in frequency of Marc’s visits, they’d also gotten dramatically shorter these past few weeks. Marc looked uneasy as he answered, 

“Just a couple of hours. I need to get back for dinner. Frank and Claudia are coming over so I can’t bail.” 

God, how I hated being put in the position of the needy, dissatisfied boyfriend, but everything he said and did was so incredibly frustrating in those days. Even though I forced myself to hold my tongue and didn’t utter a single complaint, Marc must’ve sensed my disappointment. He reached out and placed his hand softly on the side of my neck.

“I know it’s not much so let’s not waste it.” 

He began trailing soft kisses down my neck while wrapping his arms around me, his hands caressing my shoulders blades, running down the small of my back, and down to knead my ass. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to succumb to the sweet pleasure of melting into Marc’s touch, his lips, his tongue. 

This. 

This is what I’d been craving.

He started off by sucking me, a skill he had gotten impressively good at in the short time he’d been doing it. But he wouldn’t let me finish. He could tell how close I was, so he released my cock from his mouth while shifting us both up. At first, I moved to lie on my side so he could sidle up behind me, but he leaned his full body against me and flipped me onto my back. I searched his face and found him gazing at me with such intensity.

“I want to see your face when I’m inside you.” 

Shit, it was so erotic, I felt shivers down my spine. 

His thrusts were deep, wild, less restrained than ever before. The pleasure was almost too much to bear as each thrust hit my sweet spot, making me see stars. Then he wrapped his hand around me and tugged frantically, reducing me to unintelligible moans as I thrashed beneath him and came so damn hard. A moment later, he did too, crushing his mouth to mine with a bruising kiss while moaning my name into my mouth.  
He pulled out and collapsed on top of me, our breathing labored, our sweat and semen mingling together, as we held each other.

We disentangled only when my need for an after-sex smoke became unbearable. I crawled over him lazily to slip down to the floor, leaning against the bed and lit up. He followed my lead pushing off the bed to sit beside me, nuzzling his lips against my shoulder. 

The sex had been incredible, he was still here, not hurrying to leave, but something inside just wouldn’t let me relax and enjoy it. I tried to shut my mind off, but it was filled with nagging thoughts about how callous he was about everything. How easy it was for him to just turn it on and off; ignoring and avoiding me for days only to turn around and try to devour me with desire in the narrow window he’d found to fit me in. In ten maybe twenty minutes he’d get up to shower, scrubbing every last trace of me off of his body so he could go back to her pure, pristine, straight. What a difference a few weeks had made… 

He could tell I was upset; that I wasn’t sitting there basking in the afterglow like him. It felt good when he reached out to caress my chest, my neck, my chin. I leaned into his touch, savoring the intimate moment. They had become rarer recently.  
He wanted more than I was giving. I knew it. He was looking at me with those big blue puppy dog eyes. I was defenseless against those eyes. But that bitterness inside me wouldn’t let up. I couldn’t lean in more than I had. I couldn’t pretend I was ok with how things were. 

For a moment, I really thought he was going to say something.   
Explain? Share his feelings? Apologize? Ask me to move somewhere faraway with him and never look back?  
But he just sat there looking at me without saying a word.  
Then he got up to shower.

I hadn’t realized it then, but I’d begun chain smoking worse than Marc in those days. Lighting another cigarette, I followed him out to the balcony. Since he was too much of a pussy to tell me what the hell was going on, I had to ask. And I resented him for putting me in that spot. I felt so small and pitiful, but I asked anyway. 

“Aren’t you going to tell her sometime?”

He never answered, at least not directly. His annoyance and the coldness in his eyes as he rushed out were all the answers I needed.

**Stuttgart, the following week**

“I’m not in the mood for a movie.”

“Come on, what’s with you these days? You’re so mopey and depressing!” she grumbled and punched my arm lightly.

She snuggled beside me on her futon and asked softly, “Marc?”

I sighed in response.

“When was the last time you heard from him?” 

I thought back to the past week. He’d only come over once and it had been bittersweet. Amazing sex followed by awkward tiptoeing around what was happening between us. 

“He spent the night last Wednesday. I got a couple of texts since, but no concrete plans to meet. The baby’s due any day now. I understand he can’t just disappear for hours, but it fucking hurts to be on this end of it.” 

She nodded in sympathy and reached for her phone. She began flipping through it until she found what she’d been looking for. She turned the phone around so the screen was facing me. I inhaled sharply, took the phone from her hand and stared. 

I had no idea she’d taken that picture.

It was from that Friday night the three of us had gotten high and drunk at my place. I was lying on the floor and Marc was on his side, propped up on one elbow right next to me. We were gazing into one another’s eyes with such heat and intensity. Marc’s face was slightly tilted down, like he’d begun leaning in to kiss me. 

“I think he really loves you, Kay-Kay,” she whispered. 

“I know he’s acting like a dick, but maybe it’s because he’s scared, you know? He’s going to be a father any day now which is terrifying! And I bet his feelings for you scare him to death too.” 

I wanted to believe everything she was saying. 

She hugged me and added, “I only spent one evening with you, but I think what you two have is the real deal. Maybe he just needs a little more time to realize it.”

I traced his face on the screen.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's short, but hopefully still enjoyable.
> 
> I know, I know...the movie scene I described is a bit off.   
> In the movie Marc stays overnight and they chat on the balcony at dawn.  
> But since I *thought* it was dusk until about 2 hours ago, that's what I wrote...
> 
> Appreciate you bearing with my non-canon error.


End file.
